


Distractions

by fyeahblackturtlenecks



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Canon Socially Anxious Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyeahblackturtlenecks/pseuds/fyeahblackturtlenecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feasts are difficult, and Renarin welcomes distractions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duncant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duncant/gifts).



> so a friend (duncant on here) and i were talking headcanons and we got to thinking about Renarin with a dog/axehound, and i had to write it. also happy extremely belated birthday to said friend, and i am so sorry that it's taken me so long to write something for you. so yeah. renarin with an axehound.

Renarin took a deep breath, the scents of sweet and spicy food mixing in his nose with the omnipresent aroma of dried crem from ages past. The blend crashed against itself and against his sense of smell, and he winced on the exhale, but it was either that, or it was allowing his chest to get tighter and tighter until the out was the only way to breathe.

Feasts were difficult. The spiciness of the masculine food didn’t always sit well on Renarin’s tongue, nor the hum of mass amounts of human conversation in his ears. He didn’t--couldn’t--often add his own voice to the collective din, not often, not unless someone spoke to him first. Actually, he didn’t even show up, most times. Not if he could help it.

Neither Renarin nor Adolin had to go very often. The feasts were held so frequently, and the politics of the Shattered Plains so contained between the ten highprinces themselves, that their presence was simply unnecessary. And while it stung a little to know that there was yet another place, besides the battlefield, where Renarin wasn’t needed, it was also comforting to know that he had so little sway. Adolin, with his trail of broken courtships, had at least one reason to be there, but Renarin had no women to attract (or alienate), no duels to avoid starting. All he had to do was put in the occasional appearance at the more important ones.

It was a fact of little comfort when it actually came into practice. Renarin couldn’t very well skip out on his cousin’s name-day celebration--not only would Elhokar be disappointed, but the talk of “Highprince Kholin’s weak son” would only get worse. It was always present, but Renarin would not see his reputation get even worse. For his family’s sake, if not his own. _You’ve compromised them enough_ , he thought as he chewed slowly through a bite of spiced meat. The sauce that was supposed to go along with it was an untouched pool on his plate. The scents and sounds were hard enough to handle as it was, and he wouldn’t have a meltdown or an overload tonight.

Next to him, Adolin was smiling across the island at another young lady--or was it still the same one from last week? Renarin had quite liked her. He would have asked, but Adolin looked so absorbed in his...eye contact? Renarin couldn’t tell exactly what kind of exchange this was.

With a small sigh, Renarin put down his fork and reached into the pocket of his uniform pants for his box, fingers working at the clasps and hinges in their familiar patterns. As he glanced down into his lap, sweeping his index finger over the patterns on the top of box, an axehound’s head settled heavily over the tops of his knees and he smiled. “You know the rules, Cooper,” he said, putting the box down on his leg and gently petting at the axehound’s head with both hands. His carapace was smooth, and scaly, warm to the touch. Renarin smiled at the sensation. “Axehounds don’t come to feasts.”

Cooper gave a quiet, rippling whine, moving back and poking his nose into Renarin’s knee.

“Did you follow me here?”

A more excited, soft sound.

Renarin’s smile widened, and he speared another piece of meat on his fork, keeping it low to the table so that nobody would notice if it suddenly...disappeared.

“Are you feeding him under the table?”

Renarin looked over at Adolin and his smile drooped a little. “...maybe? It’s spicy…”

“No, it’s fine,” Adolin said quickly, reaching his own hand down to pet the top of Cooper’s head. “I just didn’t expect him to follow us here. But are you doing alright?”

Renarin shrugged and scratched gently at the space behind one of Cooper’s antennae, the axehound dropping his head back into his owner’s lap in satisfaction. “I’ll be fine,” he answered. “I have Cooper, I’ll be fine.”

“We can leave if you want,” Adolin said. “I’ve managed to...end things with Rilla. By accident. I don’t think I’m very popular with the ladies’ table just now.”

“No, I’m fine. You regain your popularity. I’m alright.” He wasn’t about to bail on Elhokar, and he wasn’t about to steal his brother’s chance at another possible courtship, however slim that may have been.

“If you’re sure. But tell me if that changes, yeah?”

“It won’t, Adolin,” said Renarin, turning back to Cooper. “If anything, I can keep an eye on Sadeas while you...mingle. Father thinks he might be planning something.”

“Sadeas is always planning something,” Adolin sighed, eyeing the highprince in his seat further up the table. Closer to the king, though not more so than Dalinar.

“Father thinks he might be planning something even more than he usually is.”

“Is that possible?”

Renarin shrugged again. “Probably. Never know with him.”

Cooper shifted under the table, moving to sit between his and Adolin’s chairs and looking expectantly between the two brothers. Renarin slipped him another bite of meat, and the axehound’s antennae fluttered happily.

Around Renarin, the hum of human conversation was just as loud as before, and the aftertaste of spicy food was still on his tongue, and there were still too many scents in his nose, and he was still trying very hard not to think about people discussing “Highprince Kholin’s weak son.” But there was also the axehound’s comforting presence next to him, Cooper’s smooth carapace nice under his fingers and the occasional trilling, soft bark giving him something to focus on that wasn’t snippets of conversation. 


End file.
